Place For Us
by seaquell
Summary: Natasha visits Clint's farm after the events of CATWS. Spoilers for Age of Ultron.


**A/N:** My first time ever writing Marvel, but it had to happen after Age of Ultron ruined me. Can't say I wasn't expecting to be ruined, but wow was that just gut-wrenching. Keep in mind that I made stuff up, so I don't know if this is what actually happened or even if it fits canon perfectly.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters; they belong to Marvel or Joss Whedon or whoever would like to take them now.

* * *

"I see you fixed the roof."

Clint almost slides down the tiles at the sound of her voice. He manages to stop himself, but it's too late for the book in his hands and he watches as it falls, landing at Natasha's feet.

Smirking, she leans down to pick it up. "Must be a great book if you didn't see me from a distance." Flips it so she can look at the cover. _Parenting for dummies._ "Wow…" She tries to smile, to continue, but all jokes die in the back of her throat.

Then he's next to her and Natasha's absolutely incapable of saying _anything_. Not only because the words in her head aren't colliding right, but because of how tightly Clint has crushed her to him.

"You made it," he breathes.

Natasha has to laugh at that. "You say that like I was invited."

He pulls back so he can look at her with a stern expression. "You're always invited."

"Right," she swallows.

He stares at her for a moment before chuckling slightly. "Nice hair."

She flips back her straightened locks. Or what used to be straightened, but are now moist, slightly wavy due to sweat locks.

"Just tell me you have hot water."

* * *

"Room service." There's a light knock on Natasha's door before it swings open and Laura walks in.

They share a smile before Laura puts a pile of clothes on the bed. "Thought you might want a fresh change of clothes. Clint said you didn't bring any with you."

"Um, yeah. I didn't really think much about it," Natasha mutters, playing with the belt of her robe. Embarrassed how she didn't think _at all_ before driving up here. How she felt like the decision wasn't even hers, just something that had to happen.

"I bet you thought of bringing your gun," Laura says.

Natasha freezes. "I… I'll keep it away from the ki-"

"I'm just kidding."

"I'm… not."

"Oh, been there, done that. They know what not to touch." And she smiles again, as if it was _all_ a joke. "Dinner's in 20 minutes."

After the door's closed, Natasha dares a look at the clothes she's been given. She expects a dress. Maybe she'd get away with just a floral blouse. For her relief, it's a pair of black pants and a green plaid shirt. Simple. Too big for a woman. _Clint's._

She refuses to think about it and she doesn't. Not as she puts them on and not as she has dinner with a family in which she doesn't belong.

* * *

Bellies full and kids in bed, Natasha and Clint settle on the porch steps.

She realizes she hasn't said anything about where she's been. They've been reunited long enough for him to know everything. But this time is different. He doesn't need to ask, he already has the answer.

"I saw you on TV."

"Oh?" She feigns indifference. "How'd I look?"

"Amazing. The necklace looked nice."

"Mm, right." She almost reaches up to trace the arrow before remembering she hid it along with the gun. Like a bad secret.

"They're not gonna give our secrets away," Clint says, sounding like he's trying to convince not just her, but himself too.

"I know," she lies. "Doesn't mean I like being reminded I have secrets."

"Yeah. Laura freaked out. It was like even this safe house wasn't safe anymore."

_It's not a safe house anymore, because it's a _home_, dumbass, _Natasha wants to scream.

"You have to train her," she says instead, not expecting an answer and he doesn't grant it. They both know it. _No_.

"How's Steve?"

Natasha shrugs, taking the beer bottle from his hands. The only damn alcohol they have. "A good kisser." She doesn't know why she says it. To avoid giving an actual answer. Maybe.

Clint chortles and she scrutinizes him as she drinks. "You making your way through the Avengers, Nat?"

She shrugs. "Two down."

"Oh, who's next? Banner?"

"If he's lucky."

Clint grins at her. "I've missed this."

"This?" She asks softly.

"You. Here. Like this."

Natasha smiles lightly in response, but looks away. "You think I'm… ever gonna have this?"

He keeps on smiling, clueless. "You're here now, aren't you?"

She sighs, getting up instantly. It's as if whenever they're _here_, he becomes incapable of understanding her.

"I'm gonna see if Laura needs any help. You want another beer?"

He shakes his head, looking at her quizzically, and she runs away from his gaze, rushing inside the house.

"You two catch up?" Laura asks as soon as Natasha enters the kitchen.

"Yeah. Not much to say when most of it is on the news."

"Right," Laura laughs, putting a clean dish down. "You want to give me a hand?"

"Sure. Just let it be something that I can't mess up."

"You just towel dried your hair. I reckon you can do the same with the dishes?"

"I'll try my best." Natasha smiles, grabbing the towel that's tossed her way and settling beside the other woman.

They work in silence, the only sound being the occasional water splash or clatter of dishes. Until Laura breaks it.

"Hey, remember when I was jealous of you?"

Natasha almost drops the cup she's drying.

Laura laughs as if it was her intention to get that kind of a reaction. "I don't blame you if you don't. Or if you didn't notice. I mean, you're a much better agent now. But I was _really_ jealous."

"Why would you be jealous?" Natasha asks, sincerely confused.

"Oh, so many reasons. Most importantly, you had an effect on Clint I could never have. You could get him to tell you everything you wanted to know."

"That _is_ part of my job," Natasha tries to laugh. "And not _everything_."

"See, I don't think it had anything to do with manipulation. You just wanted to know and he wanted to tell you. He never does that with me, not to this day." She rinses off the last plate and has to hold it in front of Natasha for a moment before she finally remembers what they're doing and accepts it.

"He just doesn't want to worry you. That's why he confides in me. I'm someone that can understand, but can't be hurt by whatever he tells me."

"Yeah. That's a good thing to have," Laura nods, washing her hands. When she's done, she turns to Natasha who's drying her own. "You shouldn't be so tense around here. I'm not worried about there being something between you and Clint."

It's abrupt and stings a little, but that's just the way Natasha prefers it. Hurts way less than the torture of not knowing.

"I'm worried there _should be_."

Natasha's shoulders deflate and she has to grab the counter. "Well, don't be. It's never happening. I see how happy you are. Maybe _you _are always this happy, but I can tell you Clint is not." She takes a deep breath, looking quickly through the window where she knows he's standing. "I might have been what he needed some time ago, but I'm not anymore."

And just like that, Laura's smiling again. "Okay."

Natasha has started making her way to the stairs when she turns around. "For the record… I'm jealous too. Not of you, but of _you two_. With the kids, the house. Safe."

"For now." Laura's smile becomes sad, mirroring Natasha's.

"For as long as you're together."

* * *

The only more comfortable bed Natasha recalls sleeping on is one in a cheap motel in Vienna. Of course, she realizes that might've had something to do with the fact that she and Clint had to share and she was lying more on his body than on the mattress. This bed isn't much better than that one. Yet, for some reason, she could sleep forever if she was allowed to.

Naturally, she isn't.

By the time Clint runs into the room, the kids have not only woken her up, but managed to get her out of bed. Lila wants her "auntie Nat" to do her hair and show her a new dance move ("More difficult than the last one, please!"). Cooper just wants to give her a small bouquet of wildflowers.

She hugs them both tightly before promising to get dressed and meet them downstairs as soon as possible. Satisfied, they run out of the room, straight through their father.

"I'm sorry, Tasha. They tend to be hyperactive in the morning."

She shrugs, buttoning her shirt, _his_ shirt. "It's okay, I wasn't sleeping very well anyway."

His eyebrows furrow and he looks so worried, she regrets lying instantly. But it's better, _safer_ to lie, than to admit she doesn't ever want to leave.

"So how long are you planning on staying this time?"

They're sitting on the picnic table in the yard, leaning back against the top of it, when he finally asks it. She's been expecting it, but, still, she can't help but get a little angry that he waited until she was vulnerable, her mind on the kids playing in the grass.

* * *

"It doesn't matter to me when you leave, but I'd like to know."

She's left so many times without saying goodbye. This house, other houses, hotels, motels, towers, helicarriers.

"Just until the end of the week," Natasha says.

"Today's Saturday." _You just took _all_ your time away, didn't you, Romanoff?_

"Then I'll be leaving either tomorrow or Monday morning."

"Why?"

"What do you mean _why_?"

Clint rolls his eyes. "_I mean_, what is waiting for you out there?"

"Oh, you mean besides penitentiary?" Natasha says, annoyed.

"Yeah, besides that. Why do you want to go back so bad?"

She gulps. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Why? Why did you come just to leave?" His voice is getting shaky and Natasha's worst fears become true. She has done exactly what she didn't want to do. She has disrupted something.

"I... I just wanted to see if you're doing okay. And you are. Much better than I thought you'd be so…" She laughs nervously.

Clint just stares at her. "Laura's pregnant again."

Again. Pregnant. _Again._

Natasha's reaction is to look down, just in case the envy she can't help shows in her eyes.

"Oh… oh, wow." She laughs, not knowing what's sincere anymore.

"We didn't plan it," he decides to say for some reason.

_They didn't plan it. _"That's amazing," she whispers.

"I'd like to name this one after you."

Three kids, the same question. She's always refused. It was years and years ago and she was still naïve, thinking he was either using her or in love with her.

Her "okay" feels like letting go.

"Can you stop making cute kids now?"

He laughs, crushing her to him, his lips finding her temple.

"Can you stop running?"

She doesn't leave the day after or the day after that and not for a long time until Nick Fury shows up in their barn. And when she does leave, she's not alone.


End file.
